The Last Archon

by Richard Watts

  Vivian slammed back into reality with a gasp. Her head pounded and she could still feel the phantom grip of Wolfe’s lackey.

  That had been close. She didn’t want to feel what would happen if the big man had caught her. But it wasn’t enough. How could she get away once she distracted them? How could she find the circle and disrupt it?

  She had to see further. She had to try again.

  A loud crack sounded from over Hayden’s left shoulder a split second before a bullet tore through the gravel six inches to his right. Helmet Head twisted and flopped to the rooftop with a grunt, gun clattering free. Smythe hurried into view, gun trained on the prone figure, who clutched at his shoulder, groaning. Blood matted the back of Smythe’s blonde head.

  “Nice snag,” she offered Hayden in a strained voice.

  “Nice shot,” he replied. He gave one final tug on the rope of sorcery, dragging Helmet Head a good two feet further away from his gun, then let the construct collapse. “He’s all yours.”

  Smythe moved in, shouting at the suspect to roll face down and spread his hands out on the ground. He complied slowly. Hayden tensed for the double-cross, but in seconds Smythe had him trussed up in cuffs, hands pinned behind his back. She hauled the man to his feet and lifted his helmet free from the back.

  Wolfe’s lean bodyguard licked his lips, frowning in annoyance and pain, but calm. He gave his dark, sweat matted curls a light shake. “I know my rights, officer. I want medical attention and my lawyer before we speak. In the meantime, you’ll find a knife at my back and a second in my right boot. Please don’t damage them, they have great sentimental value.”

  Smythe shook him, which elicited another grunt of pain. “When you’re in lock up, I’ll have them melted down and turned into a paperweight. Now stay put.” She turned to Hayden. “If he moves, hit him in the head.”

  “Oh, now you approve of vigilante violence,” Hayden said with a smirk.

  Smythe rolled her eyes. “Just watch him.” She patted Wolfe’s goon down.

  Hayden stepped closer and attempted to look imposing, a difficult task when he stood six inches shorter than the man he needed to intimidate. Weariness dragged at his bones, and his armor had been reduced to mere ornamentation. He made himself stand tall, smirking to keep the fear and exhaustion from showing. The assassin looked at nothing, painting on the same bored expression he’d used in the hallway outside Hayden’s apartment.

  Sure enough, Smythe found the two knives and secured them. A phone and a spare magazine, presumably for the handgun, joined them. “Alright, who sent you to shoot at us?”

  “We know who sent him,” Hayden interrupted. “Whether he talks or not, it doesn’t matter. Do you have him?”

  Sirens pulled closer and cut off. Smythe’s radio squawked. She kept her eyes on Hayden as she reached up to reply. “This is Smythe. I’ve got one under on the building’s roof. He’ll need medical soon, and we may need assistance from Fire to get down safely.”

  Someone on the other end acknowledged her in a crackling rumble. “I do now. Building is surrounded. They’ll be sending help up in a minute.”

  Hayden mimed looking at a watch. “Oh, look at the time. Gotta run, officer.”

  A blast of blue light erupted into the darkening sky from somewhere to the north. A detonation of thunder swept past, carried on a swift, hot breeze that stirred dust and grit into Hayden’s eyes. He lifted his gaze as the dust storm passed. Swirling clouds haloed a crackling stream of energy that flowed upward and drilled at the heavens.

  “What in the hell is that?” officer Smythe asked.

  “You want to write it a ticket?” Smythe glared at Hayden. “Sorry. Adrenaline. I’ve really, really got to go.”

  “You’re too late.” Wolfe’s thug smiled at Hayden. “You’ve been two steps behind the whole time.” Smythe grabbed his injured shoulder and simultaneously shoved her knee into the back of his knee, forcing him down.

  “I’ve got him,” she told Hayden. She tipped her head at the geyser of sorcery. “Go save my city.”

  Hayden nodded his thanks and ran to the police cruiser, still idling a few yards away. He hopped in, shut the door, and threw the car into gear. He prayed he made it in time as he reached for the Axiom and drove toward the edge.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Vivian swore as she collapsed back to the present. Sweat matted her hair, and her headache ignited into a full-blown migraine. She looked at the clock through the swimming aura and swore again. She had wasted too much time. Vivian had tried six times to see far enough and no matter which path she took, she never got to see what the big man’s power was or exactly where Wolfe had hidden his circle.

  There was a path, she knew there was. She just had to find it. If only Hayden were here to help her hold onto the power long enough…

  Power. She looked at her purse in the passenger seat. One corner of the tiny wooden box poked out from the lip. It had worked before.

  Vivian dug the box out and opened the lid partway, hesitated, then flipped the box open. The black pearls shimmered with muted rainbows in the glare of the streetlights. She bit her lip, selected one orb, and picked it up. She held it close enough that her breath clouded the surface, but uncertainty stayed her hand.

  The little voice from earlier piped up. She knew how dangerous this stuff was, how addictive. What if she went crazy, lost herself in visions forever? Did she really want to take that risk?

  This is your moment, V. Run and hide or get out of the damn car. Who do you want to be?

  She pressed the shard between her lips with trembling fingers.

  Carter Rawlston sat on a step stool in the middle of the construction zone. The tiny stool barely held his massive frame. The contractors had left for the night, leaving sawdust, slabs of sheetrock, and stacks of cut lumber to wait for another day. The quiet hum of the bright electric lamps dulled the noise outside.

  Rawlston stared with distaste at the grey-white drywall dust clinging to his polished shoes. Bad enough that Mr. Wolfe had dismissed him from personal security tonight in favor of that thug. Worse, he now had to watch over a dump on the wrong side of town. He’d have liked a night off, sure, but this wasn’t how he wanted to spend it.

  Mr. Wolfe had been emphatic, though. Allow no one into the space once the contractors left and he was to pursue anyone who attempted to gain entry with extreme sanction. Rawlston thought it was a waste of his talents, but he wasn’t about to argue with his employer.

  At least it would all be over soon. Rawlston wasn’t privy to all of Mr. Wolfe’s plans, but he stood close enough to hear the clock winding down. A few more days, maybe a week, and this place wouldn’t matter any more than the other gentrified facades on the rotting bones of this city.

  Rawlston sighed at the thought. He couldn’t stand the mess any longer. He whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and bent down to wipe the tops of his dress shoes clear of dust, knowing full well his first step would coat them again. It was a metaphor, he supposed. He hadn’t been clean in a long, long time.

  He noticed the girl as soon as he rose upright. She stood on the street outside and held a glowing orb of silvery light above her head. It flashed and pulsed, shining like a lighthouse beacon. The pale glow of her sorcerous lantern washed her face out, and the rougher glare of the construction lights on the windows hid her legs, making her seem to float like a specter in the dim shadows outside. Her eyes flared with the same moonlight silver, flat and pitiless, the Ghost of Christmas Past come to call.

  Before the shock had time to wear off, the girl reared back and threw the lantern at him.

  Vivian hurled the rock she’d masked behind a ball of glowing Axiom light. Glass shattered and the luminescent missile sailed into the open room trailing twin streamers of silver energy. It bounced twice and rolled to a stop a yard from the big man’s feet. He stood slowly, dark face glowering at her through the busted pane of glass.

  “That was not smart,” he rumbled at her.


  You have no idea, thought Vivian. She tensed, fighting down the butterflies in her stomach, wrapping the strings of silver around her hands once more.

  The man took a step toward her and swelled, his coffee-brown skin darkening to a true ebon-black. Shadows swirled from his midsection, covering his clothes. He added a foot in height and more through the shoulders as the darkness congealed into planes of obsidian rock, angular and knife-edged. Even his face and eyes disappeared under scales of rock and a fan of larger plates that spiked up into a pyramid-like crown.

  The living statue pointed a thick, blocky finger at her. “You can deal with the police or me.” His voice crackled and clicked, though his frozen mouth didn’t move. He took a second step forward. “Your choice.”

  Vivian pulled on the strings with trembling hands. The lantern enchantment unspooled, releasing a torrent of trapped light. Vivian flung her arms over her face and turned away, but the bright flash pressed at her skin and bored through her eyelids despite her preparation.

  The sculpture-man had no such warning. He roared in surprise and pain. Vivian turned to look at him once the flash died down. Massive four-fingered hands cradled his blocky head. Whatever power allowed him to see when in his monstrous form meant he couldn’t stop the light from burning him. But even as she watched he rolled his head and oriented on her, grumbling in a landslide growl. Vivian took an involuntary step back at the noise.

  Get his attention. Check.

  The statue charged, steps thundering. Vivian bounced into motion, running across the street like a gazelle and taking off along the sidewalk. The giant creature tore through the doorway as though it had been constructed of balsa and broke into a pistoning run after her.

  Oh, God, let this work! She called on the Axiom as she ran, and the future-shadows sprang into her vision. She lined her path up with the future she needed, plunging headlong past visions of herself tripping and stumbling. Vivian shuddered as she passed the fading ghost of a timeline in which she lost limbs to the monster behind her.

  She threw herself into a roll two steps later. The rough sidewalk scraped her skin, but the flung manhole cover missed her by a hair and buried itself in the brick wall to her left with a deafening peal. She popped to her feet and raced onward, fear propelling her steps.

  Vivian slowed and leaned into the left turn at the end of the block, brushing the corner bricks with her hand. She dodged around a group of people crowding the sidewalk and threaded between two parked cars to cross the street. One block to go. The blare of sirens reached her now, over her panicked breathing.

  A hatchback braked for her as she crossed the second lane of the road and scurried onto the sidewalk. She counted steps as she passed a streetlight. Steady, drumbeat booms drew closer and panicked cries tore from the crowd. A gravelly roar drowned them out.

  One, two, three, duck! Vivian threw herself behind a parked truck. A small car fell from the sky onto the hood of her cover with a tremendous crunch, sending shards of glass flying. Twisted metal groaned and the truck’s alarm bleated its warning through wounded speakers. The accordioned car tumbled back-over-bumper and slammed to the sidewalk three inches from Vivian’s leg.

  Even knowing it was coming, she squealed and staggered to her feet. The monstrous statue stalked down the middle of the street, kicking the hatchback aside to clear his path. People screamed and scattered in all directions. Cars on the road slammed to a halt and laid on their horns, backing away. Vivian stumbled into a run, dodging the pockets of shocked humanity scrambling away from the angry rock creature like frightened sheep. More terrified faces gaped from the windows she passed.

  “Run!” she tried to scream, but all that came out was a wheeze of air. Her side burned with cramping muscles, and every breath seethed acidly in her lungs. Her talent faltered and the trail of future-shadows flickered like an old movie reel. Vivian could see the intersection up ahead and pressed on, begging her legs to move faster.

  Flashing blue and red lights heralded the coming of the police. Two cruisers turned through the traffic frozen in the intersection and hopped each curb, creating a funnel. Four armed officers, a pair from each car, got out and took aim at the obsidian behemoth charging down their street.

  Vivian sailed between them, pulling up the tail end of a running herd of humanity. She released her frail hold on the Axiom and sank to the asphalt, limbs rubbery, pulse pounding. The images of possibility winked out, and she whirled, blinking night blind eyes and crawling on the scuffed knees of her jeans.

  The living statue stomped through the street, blocky shoulders rolling as he loosened up for a fight. Dagger-like spines of black rock reflected the multiple hues of lights into an aura around him. He slowed as he neared the police, but didn’t stop. One of the officers called to him on a P.A. system, ordering him to halt.

  Vivian barely heard it, scurrying toward the relative safety of the corner curb. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the jagged smile of the colossus. He grunted like an angry rhino and took another step toward the impromptu barricade.

  The officers opened fire. Bullets sparked and scraped over his stony hide, chipping tiny divots in the glassy surface. The statue plodded forward like a man walking in a chill rain, annoyed, purposeful, but undaunted. Vivian crawled up the curb and hugged the pole of the streetlight, curling trembling hands over the metal.

  Three of the officers stopped shooting and stepped back as the big Prime closed on them. One broke and ran. The officer furthest from Vivian continued firing, shouting incoherently, until the slide on his pistol locked back. The behemoth weathered the bullets until that moment, then bent and casually flipped the police cruiser over onto the officer with one hand. It paused to make sure he didn’t get up, then turned its massive skull toward her.

  Everything in Vivian’s soul wanted to run. Terror shrieked at her to flee. It was unstoppable, too strong, the plan wouldn’t work. She clutched the pole and choked it, strangling her fear.

  Patience. The voice in the back of her mind that had taunted her in the car now spoke in a calm, detached tone. Her terror eased, shrinking to something manageable. The big Prime took a step toward her.

  Almost. One of the officers clutched at her, ordering her back to safety, but her arms locked around the pole. The monstrous rock golem reached up with a massive limb and took another step.

  Now! Vivian reached for the Axiom and shoved every particle of terror and anger she had into the glyph she’d etched into the pole with her keys. The cool energy flowed through her in a river that roared with the voice of the Worm. Light bloomed in the glyph on the streetlight, silver-blue. And on the matching one directly beneath the statue.

  And on the dozens of identical glyphs on every car, fire hydrant, parking meter, and light pole for half a block in every direction, all of them exact copies of the only Atlantean sigil she knew by heart: the symbol for “attraction.”

  The pull of the power running through her web of sorcery kicked the wind into a howling swirl as first one, then a second, then a third car skidded across the now-vacant roadway toward Wolfe’s footsoldier, picking up speed as they went.

  The living monument stepped back, confused and off-balance, but not done. It smashed the first car to the side with a twisting backhand and caught the second with both hands, holding it engine down, tree trunk sized legs flexing. A parking meter clipped it in the back of the knee, sending the giant thudding to the earth with a crack of splitting stone. The beast roared in defiance, still hefting a car above his prone form, but a third car slammed into it from the side and a mailbox crashed into it from the back, smashing open and scattering mail in a cloud. A second later, eight separate vehicles left the road and zipped through the air to compact themselves around him.

  A fireball ripped upward from the pile of wreckage as gasoline ignited in the tanks. The blast dislodged Vivian from the pole and shoved her into the officer behind her, knocking them both to the sidewalk. The instant her palm left the glyph the connection broke. The web
went dark. Metal objects that had been hurtling toward their target fell clanging to the pavement.

  Vivian stopped pulling power and rolled to her stomach, pushing herself up to one knee. Her ears rang and she ached everywhere. She wiped windblown strands of her hair from her face. Shocked silence reigned over the crowd, broken by unheaded alarms blaring in the distance. Burning pieces of correspondence fluttered to the ground around a massive pile of twisted metal and plastic that billowed black smoke into the purple dusk.

  A susurrus of human voices hissed in like surf and broke the spell. An officer picked her up and ushered her back from the scene. He placed her against the warm bricks several feet back from the intersection, and Vivian sank gratefully to the sidewalk again.

  She watched crowds gather at the edges of the scene, some shared instinct making them stop at the same distance from the carnage. Other officers arrived, along with a fire truck and an ambulance. Fresh faces with badges at chest or hip restored order. Someone draped a blanket on her and shined an annoying light into her eyes. Her head pounded, and Vivian realized she’d missed the last few minutes. She was supposed to do something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what.

  Gasps and curses drew her attention. Blue lightning danced and crackled in an amazing display to the north. She hadn’t seen this coming. Memory struck her in the gut with physical force, and guilt twisted its knife a moment later.

  She was too late.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Deckard stood within the center glyph, arms outstretched, hands cupped around the funnels of power. The warmth of the Axiom surrounded him in slowly rippling waves of golden light that spun in flame-like tendrils as it drifted upward into the crystalline darkness. He lifted the burning eyes of a sun-god toward the sacrifice.